


Wolf Like Me (Dream Me Oh Dreamer)

by dance_tilyouredead



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: All The Tropes, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Did I not mention that yet?, F/F, Grounders are werewolves who are also in a Band, Halloween, Lexa has an undercut, Punk Lexa, Spooptacular, Werewolf Lexa, Wolf Pack, lead singer lexa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance_tilyouredead/pseuds/dance_tilyouredead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She learns her name after Echo's party. It was the third time Lexa had noticed her, the third time she'd been driven to speak with her. Something about Clarke made her Wolf sit up, ears pricked and paying attention. Lexa revved up her performance to full throttle that night, letting the Wolf work her body and voice for the crowd. For Clarke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Dancetyd on Tumblr. Come headcanon with me.

 

_ Say say my playmate / won't you lay hands on me / mirror my malady / transfer my tragedy _

 

Clarke first sees her in the library. Hair wild, makeup dark. Their hands brush when they pass through the stacks and Clarke looks back. She meets with cool green eyes and a wicked smirk as the girl walks away.

“They're all in that band. The Grounders,” Raven tells her later when she asks. ‘Lexa’ moved to leave with the rest of her band behind her. They're all dark smoky eyes and attitude you could see from space.

“They study here? What are they majoring in, broody atmosphere?” Clarke follows Lexa with her eyes, scratching absently at the bandage on her arm. Monty swats at her hand reminding her that she doesn't want the nasty dog-almost-bit-my-arm-off scar that would come with an infection.

Clarke sits on her hands but doesn't stop staring after Lexa until she's well and truly out of sight.

"See something you like, Princess?" Raven rearranges her highlighters, pushing Clarke’s study mess out of her desk space.

Clarke shakes her head. “I’m not into bad girls.”

Still. Lexa’s face is clear in Clarke's mind later that night when she's alone in bed, moon shining bright through her window as she sighs Her name.

 

//

A week later, Raven pulls Clarke and Octavia to their first college party, and the Grounders are there. They play and Clarke tries to pretend that she cares about whatever Jasper McGoggles is saying more than the way that Lexa's full lips press against the microphone.

There's something about Her.

The Grounders have an electronic punk vibe with Lexa’s ethereal vocals pulling them into electric dream territory.Swaying with the rest of the crowd, Clarke can’t help but feel like Lexa sings only for her. She wants to assume that everyone in the crowd feels Lexa’s gaze hot as a flame. Somehow, though, that doesn’t seem quite true.

Later, Clarke’s hunting around in the freezer for ice, so she doesn't hear Her approach. She feels Lexa move behind her instead.

"Lost something?"

Her mind maybe, she thinks. How else could she be so sure who’s talking without looking who's behind her.

"Maybe I have," she finds herself saying, flirting. Clarke tries to remember that bad girls aren't for her.

"Anything I can help you with?" Lexa's voice is a sultry half growl that Clarke feels in her pulse. Lexa’s eyes are almost golden in this light, her pupils not quite fixed, changing shape and depth as if seeing both near and far at once.

Before Clarke can respond, Octavia finds her and pulls her from the kitchen. Something about Raven, the douche-lord Finn, and, "We're leaving now, Clarke."

She feels Lexa's eyes on her back the whole way home.

 

//

_ Got a curse I cannot lift / shines when the sunset shifts / when the moon is round and full / gotta bust that box gotta gut that fish _

 

The moon rise makes Lexa's skin itch. Three days out and she can smell sunlit stone wherever she goes. The Wolf is so close to the surface that house cats hiss when she walks by, dogs whine and bow, and people... Well people can have interesting reactions.

 

She learns her name after Echo's party. It was the third time Lexa had noticed her, the third time she'd been driven to speak with her. Something about Clarke made her Wolf sit up, her ears pricked and paying attention. Lexa revved up her performance to full throttle that night, letting the Wolf work her body and voice for the crowd. For Clarke.

The first time was during Fresher week. Lexa took no part in the fresher crap. But she’ll always support Luna in her latest signature drive. Lexa was smoking in the shadow of a spruce, regretting her black jeans and t-shirt in the lingering summer heat, and debating an undercut just to get some of the weight off her shoulder. Clarke, ran straight up to her, blonde hair as wild as her eyes.

Lexa could smell the flask of rum in her back pocket, the mix of liquors on her breath. Smiling at Lexa like she was her savior she caught her breath in quick gasps. Lexa finished her cigarette, squeezed the cherry from the end and flicked the butt into the trash. She didn't ask if Clarke needed anything. She just watched and waited, eyes lingering over smooth summer legs.

Finally Clarke took a swig from her flask, steeling her courage. She took another sip just for fun then said breathlessly. "I need you to take your shirt off.”

The second time was in the library. The girl from Fresher week who had claimed Lexa's black Strokes T-shirt was already studying. Pre-Med with some art history electives guessing by the pile of books beside her. Lexa idly ran her fingers over the newly buzzed undercut, pretending to study while Anya and Echo kicked each other under the table and Lincoln actually studied.

She watched Clarke, tuned every sense to observing her – every breath and murmured question, the light filtering through fine hair. She smelled different from that first day. An incredibly sweet, starlight scent that must have been obscured by alcohol and sunscreen before. When Clarke wandered into the stacks with a notebook and pen, Lexa made her excuses and followed. Anya and Echo's curiosity did to, but she couldn't care.

Lexa stayed out of sight, following Her scent, the shine of blonde hair between shelves. Stalking. Prey. Her Wolf brain supplied a stream of words and pictures for want. Desire. Demand. Take. Have. She suppressed every instinct and lingered back until her quiet hesitation became a steady pacing and she knew she had to leave.

Rather than walk straight out, Lexa lingered, pulled a book from the shelf and drifted down Clarke’s aisle. The starlight smell was even sweeter up close, tinged with notes of grief and frustration that Lexa could only wonder at. She let their hands brush as she passed, feeling a thrill at Clarke's sharp intake of breath, at the quickening of her heartbeat. 

//

_My mind's aflame_  
_We could jet in a stolen car / but I bet we wouldn't get too far / before the transformation takes / and bloodlust tanks and / crave gets slaked_

The first day of full moon, Lexa has an exam. Anya pushes her to work through it. "Wolf's not worth repeating the whole subject for."

The distraction is consuming, though. She can smell every student in the room and what they had for breakfast. She can hear every pen scratch, every insect and spider in the walls. She pours through the questions as quickly as she can. The essay is a lost cause but she thinks she has enough points from the multiple choice to scrape a pass.

Then. She can smell starlight. Clarke is in the hallway outside. Close enough for the heat of her to consume Lexa's senses. Immediately, she lifts up her incomplete test. The TA frowns at Lexa, sometimes so brilliant yet always distracted, and nods. She smiles her thanks, drops the exam on his desk and leaves. She doesn’t run.

//

She finds Clarke in front of a notice board, fingers trailing over orientation announcements and lists of old textbooks up for sale.

“Hello, Clarke.”

Clarke flinches and spins around, a hand over her heart. “Lexa.”

Lexa wants to growl happily, hearing Clarke say her name. She takes a step back because she’s standing too close. Clarke doesn’t seem to mind a little space invasion, but Lexa’s nothing if not polite.

When Clarke takes the step forward to close that space again, Lexa has to cover her growl by clearing her throat. The full moon is too close for this, too close for Lexa to do anything but lean in and breathe deep lungfuls of starlight from Clarke's hair.

“Lexa?” Clarke's hand is on her hip. As if she'd meant to push back but had held on instead.

Lexa tries to pull away. She doesn't understand what is happening. Why is she so drawn in? Why is Clarke? The word pheromone comes to mind in a detached textbook way. She needs to find Anya. She needs to get answers. She needs she needs. She needs.

Lexa’s nose is deep in Clarke's hair now, their bodies close. Lexa needs to snap out of it. She takes a step back, meeting Clarke’s eyes, hunger thirst wanting, pulsing through her. Clarke releases the hold on her hip but their eyes stay locked as Lexa takes another step back, and another. Clarke follows, Lexa retreats. Step for step.

“You’ve been watching me.” Clarke sounds more confident than Lexa is, mirroring her steps and keeping them close.

Another step and Lexa bumps into a table of flyers and old text books. Mercifully, Clarke follows and doesn’t stop until there’s no space left between them. Lexa’s breath stutters as her wolf paces, howls for her to take, have, keep. Clarke looks feral as she feels.

“At that party, if I hadn’t left, what would you have done?”

Lexa glances down at Clarke’s lips. She knows what she wants to do now. She knows even more clearly what the wolf wants her to do. “Clarke, for your sake, you should get away from me.”

“Why?”

“Lexa?” Anya’s voice precedes her around the corner. She skids to a halt when she spots them, Clarke almost pressed entirely along Lexa’s body, nose to nose, breath to breath. Anya takes three long strides, grabs Lexa’s arm and pulls her sharply away from Clarke. Lexa holds back a growl just barely. Or maybe she doesn’t hold it back at all as Anya’s fingers dig into her arm.

“Time to go, Little Lex.”

Lexa’s wolf is whining and growling, wanting nothing more than to throw Anya’s hand away, to get back to Clarke and drag her into the nearest empty classroom. Or better yet, to forget privacy and just throw her over the nearest flat surface. The table Clarke just backed her into would work.

“God. Lexa, tone it down. You’re flooding the hallway.” Anya’s face has darkened, her nose wrinkled.

Lexa’s cheeks burn and she finally pushes the wolf down, emerging from a haze of… she doesn’t know what.

“Wait!” Lexa doesn’t want to just leave Clarke in the middle of the hallway. They need to talk about this and have sex. No, they need to talk about this and figure out what the hell is happening to them.

“Lexa?” Clarke steps forward but Anya pushes Lexa behind her. “Okay, look.” Clarke holds up her hands. “Just. Clarke Griffin. I’m Clarke Griffin, and I’m— Just, facebook me okay?”

Lexa’s wolf howls at the chance for further contact and she holds back the yip of excitement that threatens to break loose. God, that’s too much, the moon is killing her.

“C’mon pup.” Anya tugs Lexa closer. “I’ll let you come find your girlfriend when you’re not about to hump her leg in public.”

//

  
_My mind has changed / My body's frame but god I like it_

Clarke needs to find Octavia. And Raven. This needs full girl support. And ice cream. Or something. God, she hasn’t felt this inappropriately turned on since she was fifteen and Miss Mitchells wore that purple blouse to class. Clarke’s thoughts wander back to that memory with vivid clarity and then skates right back to having Lexa pressed against her, Lexa’s nose in her hair, Lexa’s warmth and scent wrapped around her. She swears it is still in her clothes. Whatever it  is.

She charges through her front door to find Raven and Octavia already there with two spoons and a jar of nutella. Thank god. Clarke dumps her bag on the kitchen counter, makes a trip to the freezer and comes back with icecream and another spoon. Raven is on the floor leaning against Octavia's shins so Clarke takes her spot on the couch, her feet on Octavia' lap.  

“Hard day?” Octavia makes room as best she can, running a comforting hand up Clarke's shin.  

“Weird day.” Clarke scoops out her first spoonful of caramel swirl and then presses the icey container to her cheek. She actually feels flushed. She’s flushed and horny and, holy shit, what the hell is happening?

Raven and Octavia share a look.

Octavia starts. “You okay, Griff? You look a little…”

“Flustered?” Raven finishes.

“You could say that.” Clarke scoops out more caramel. “You remember Lexa Woods?”

“The one on permanent rotation in your spank bank?” Raven gets a kick from Octavia, but she just laughs.

“Oh god,” Clarke groans.

“Yeah, she gets a mention too.” Raven winks at Octavia to pull a giggle out of her.

“I’m not that loud. I’m not even…” Clarke’s face is so hot, she’s pretty sure the ice-cream isn’t going to make it. “I don’t…”

“Yeah, you must’ve been moaning in your sleep then?” Octavia tries to look serious and reassuring through her sniggers. “Honestly, we thought you were sneaking her into your room at first, but then you never said anything and, well…” Octavia trails off to focus on licking a smear of nutella off her wrist.

“And why would you hide her? She’s thoroughly bangin.” Raven picks up where Octavia left off, watching the trail of tongue against wrist.

Clarke doesn't know where to start. Honestly, she's at a loss.  

Octavia just keeps staring at her, passing the Nutella jar back to Raven once she's’ recovered.  

“I ran into her,” Clarke says.

Raven waits a full three seconds before prompting. “And?”

“And it was weird.”

“Weird like she licked your face, or weird like you've been getting yourself off to the thought of her every night?”

Clarke has to think about that. “Both?”

Raven nearly sorts nutella out of her nose and Octavia pats her back gently.

“She didn't actually lick me but…” Clarke thinks about what did happen. About Lexa's nose in her hair and the little grumbles in her chest that might equally have been hums or growls.  “It was really intense.”

“And, she isn't here because?” Octavia

“Well. After I backed her into a table—”

“Hot.” Octavia and Raven nod in approval. Then Raven holds up her hand. “It was hot though right? Not intimidation?”

“Hey.” Clarke frowns, indignant.

“Consent is sexy Clarke.”

“Agreed. And yes.” Clarke’s nod is confident. “She looked like she wanted to eat me.” At Raven’s smirk Clarke tries again. “Ravish?”

“Same difference. But go on.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Look guys,” she eats another two big scoops of ice cream while waiting for them to realise that she needs serious friends right now. She's finally cooling down but she presses the tub back to her face anyway.

Raven tries to school her expression but keeps side eying Octavia and ruining the effect.

Meanwhile, Clarke could still combust at any second. “I wasn't in control.” That specific moment when she'd said Lexa's name replays in her mind. She has to cross and uncross her legs at the thought of the sounds Lexa made. “I’m still not in control. It was like something from animal planet. She could have bent me over the table right there and I would have thanked her.”

“Wait which hallway?”

“Does it matter?”

Raven and Octavia share a look then nod. “Yes.”

“God, don't ever tell me. It was in front of that theatre where O had Poli Sci last semester.” At that Octavia smirks, Raven blushes and Clarke groans. “Okay, your sexcapades aside, that was not some dark deserted hallway. I just didn't care. I...” she tries to think how to explain. The perfume that surrounded Lexa. She can't, so she leans forward and shakes her hair at them. Octavia gets the full effect.

“Holy shit.”

Raven sits up and gets a nose full too. It takes a couple of seconds to build on them. Raven tries to shake her head clear,  her eyes losing focus. “What is that.”

Clarke pulls her own hair around which is a big mistake. She’d gotten somewhat accustomed to the diminished effect but that is sending her right back to the hallway again. God.

By the time she comes back to herself, Raven is looking worried. Even as Octavia has to grab Raven's hand on its journey up her thigh, Raven still manages to sound concerned.

“Okay Clarke, I don't wish to alarm you but you seem to have been drenched in Lexa's gay sex fog.”

//

Lexa paces up and down in Anya's room. Echo is curled up against the headboard on the bed with Anya stroking her hair.

“Who cares what some little Norm thinks, Lex?” Echo flinches back at Lexa's growl, leaning into Anya's shoulder, nuzzling her hair. “Okay, so we care.”

Echo holds up her hands as Anya rolls her eyes and pats the bed beside her. There's enough room for them all to sleep, for the whole pack to nuzzle together in the week around full moon. “Just quit your pacing. We've gotta head out in a couple hours anyway.  Lincoln’s home soon. Take a nap with us.” They’re already yawning.

Lexa is too wired. She still just wants to get back to Clarke. She paces from bed to desk. “I'll find her on Facebook. That's a start right?” Pacing from desk to bed she worries, “But then, what if she's one of those people that doesn’t check often?”

Anya yawns. She’s stopped caring.

Lexa cares too much. She doesn't contact Clarke. And she doesn't stop pacing until they leave for the woods. At moonrise she bursts into the forest, howling and hunting with her sisters, the hunt, the game almost enough for both Lexa and her wolf to forget about Clarke Griffin.

//

_My hearts aflame / My body's strained but god I like it_

Clarke has a shower, soaking in body wash and Octavia’s flowered shampoo until Lexa’s scent is finally washed away. When she emerges, Raven and Octavia have disappeared and Clarke makes a dash for her room and headphones before she can overhear anything.

She’s still reeling from the idea that she’s been moaning Lexa’s name in her sleep. She doesn’t even know her. Sure Lexa’s hot. The classic bad girl aesthetic, all black t-shirts, doc martins and wild majestic hair. But that’s not enough. Not normally. Clarke enjoys people, finds almost everybody attractive, and likes making out with pretty girls, but she usually prefers to engage mentally and emotionally before going any further.

She doesn’t know if Lexa is smart, if she’s passionate or if she likes dogs or cats, comic books or feminist literature or TV shows with questionably queer characters. She doesn’t know if they have anything in common.

And she doesn’t really care. She knows what she wants, or at least has an idea. There’s an endless stream of filthy images flashing through her mind, of skin and tongues and hands. Nothing specific. Just Lexa and lust.

She pulls out her textbooks and cranks up her music louder to try and drown out her own illicit thoughts. The last of the sunlight is fading and she can see the moon rising, full and golden against the twilight. It’s late but not late enough to just sleep, to fall into those obnoxiously explicit dreams she’s been having for weeks. As the sky darkens, she hears a distant wolf howl, the moon rises to silver and she finally gives in, strips out of her clothes and slips under the covers to think of Lexa. Fuck, feel, yes, want, now, have. Lexa.   


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke gets a handle on her fantasies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two of maybe 3? Who knows really?

_My mind has changed / my body's frame but god I like it_

 

In the woods, Lexa is running. 

She howls and bristles. Revels in the chase. Two hares bound through trees fifty yards ahead. She will catch them. They smell hot and sweet. She is hungry. Anya and Echo a mile away. Lincoln further. Blood courses through her body. Blood fuels coil and release – haunches and shoulders. Leaps forward. 

 

In her room, Clarke is overheated. Hours of tossing and turning, throwing her blankets off have done nothing to cool her down, all she can hear is her own heavy breathing. And from outside, howling. 

She tosses her sheet aside, resigning herself to being naked and the possible exposure if Octavia rushes in to wake her in the morning. That’s hours away yet. Hours of howling still to go. The TonDC wolves have become famous in the past ten or so years. The University even changing their old bumble bee mascot to a howling wolf. And why not, when every goddamn full moon the goddamn howling echoes across the whole damn campus. Clarke glances at her phone. Two am and counting.

 

Blood on her muzzle, Lexa lets loose a howl into the night. Full moon weaving through fur makes her stronger. Hearing four answering howls, she knows others are safe. Slips through trees. Tail whips against bark. Sweet water scent guides. The creek. Flows to campus. Lexa cleans her muzzle. Night air is clean. She lays on a grassy bank to doze. 

 

At two thirty Clarke stops resisting her fantasies. Lexa hasn’t left her thoughts since the hallway incident. What Raven so charmingly referred to as Lexa’s Sex Fog coated her skin for hours, and is still in her hair, on her sheets. Eyes closed, Clarke sinks back into that feeling, rests her hands on her hip and thigh. Imagines that her hands are Lexa’s hands. Imagines a different end to yesterday. 

On a not too distant creek bank, Lexa and wolf dream. Clarke runs with them. Human. Wolf. Human. Lexa is wolf shape and human shape. They dance. They kiss. Lexa howls and Clarke howls. They love. They fuck. They mate and howl. The creek bank is soft and Lexa wakes, Wolf wakes. No Clarke. Wolf and Lexa whine. Creek flows to campus. Lexa follows creek. 

 

In Clarke’s mind, Lexa could have pulled them toward a classroom if they hadn’t been interrupted. The door could have been closed and Clarke pressed against it, Lexa would have been pressed against her. 

The fantasy moves forward. Day becomes night as Lexa kisses her full and hot, bodies pressed together. The full moon shines through Clarke’s window and through the window of her fantasy classroom. 

Uncaring of the risks of getting caught, Lexa would pull Clarke to the teacher’s desk. Her arms would be so strong, would push Clarke to sit on the edge. They would be kissing the whole time and by now they would both be breathless. She could wrap her legs around Lexa, Clarke’s thighs over Lexa’s hips, ankles linked under Lexa’s ass, pulling her closer. 

Clarke, alone in her room lets her hands wander, one hand drifting between her legs to delve into wetness, the other wandering over her breasts and stomach. Her hips naturally move into her hand in a rhythm. In her fantasy, she’s now topless, Lexa’s mouth trailing down her neck.

 

At forest edge, a wolf peers out. Park, grass, campus, light. Things a wolf avoids, that Lexa knows. Familiar. Wrong. Lexa and wolf feel a call. Moon one way, something else in this human dwelling the other. Something, _someone_ calls, and wolf wants. Lexa might know it’s Clarke, but she is Wolf and Wolf knows only mate. She leaves the trees. 

A building Lexa knows as _dorm_ is a wolf’s destination, street lights be damned. Wolf shifts, lets Lexa out to play. Early on moon nights, Lexa’s mind is in wolf body, now Wolf mind shares Lexa’s body. Bare human legs in the night, human toes on the grass. Almost naked. Wolf knows nothing of naked and Lexa _is_ the wolf.

 

Clarke’s fantasies roll forward and she is naked there too. Without a care for logistics, she and Lexa are now in her room, this room, with Lexa just as naked above her, Lexa’s fingers exploring in place of Clarke’s. Lexa’s tongue and lips would be hot around her nipple, hotter than her own fingers. Clarke would have her legs wrapped around Lexa’s waist, with Lexa grinding down into her. They would build a perfectly matched rhythm.

Lexa would lean back to look at her, arm braced beside Clarke’s head so Clarke could lean forward to capture Lexa’s breast in her mouth, sucking marks into her soft skin. Lexa would groan and swear and her pace pick up, grinding into Clarke’s thigh and letting her fingers drift down. Lexa would meet her eyes, to ask permission the first time, to check it’s okay and on Clarke’s signal, she would push inside. 

And fuck, her fingers sliding inside would be perfect, would stroke over every stimulating nerve as if Lexa knew Clarke’s body, as well as Clarke knows it herself. Clarke would beg Lexa to fuck her faster and harder and Lexa would oblige, somehow defying gravity to grab at Clarke’s hips – she would use her own hips to drive her hand harder into her.

 

Outside, under the low hanging moon, Lexa starts to run, urgency and need pushing her faster. Wolf breathes deep through muted human senses. Wolf knows where to go and Lexa follows.

 

Clarke alone in her room turns over to push into her own hand as her fingers pull forward, pressing and stroking that place inside until it’s all too much and she can’t anymore. She pulls out, wet fingers shifting up to flick over her clit hard and fast, thighs trembling as her Fantasy-Lexa comes first, crying Clarke’s name as she shudders away, leaving her own streaks of wet behind on Clarke's thigh.  

 

Lexa finds the building, somehow knows which window is the one, can see Her balcony. Wolf can hear Lexa’s name, makes the leap.

 

Clarke is still panting and gasping when a sound outside jolts her to full wakefulness. She turns over in a rush, throwing her hands away from her body. She’s startled by the power of her own fantasies, the strength of her orgasm. She never thinks about people in her real life – not ones she isn't sleeping with. It’s weird and invasive and—

“Fuck.” 

A soft curse close by makes Clarke jolt upright out of bed. 

She grabs for a shirt – her oversized dorm-burning-down emergency coverall shirt – and her old baseball bat. 

_It’s nothing,_ she tells herself gripping the bat tighter. _Don’t scream down the apartment just cause you’re on edge._ She listens intently, and hearing nothing lets the door open a crack. It’s dark, the moon having disappeared behind a dense cloud so she can only just make out the balcony rail. There’s no sign of movement.

Out on the balcony, Lexa has frozen. Landing awkwardly on her ankle brought some sense back into her head. The moon disappearing quieted her wolf enough that Lexa is now very aware of her near nakedness and of how high she’s climbed. The jump back down to ground level is not one she’s looking forward to without her full wolf faculties, but she doesn’t have a choice. She can hear Clarke’s door opening, smell her all too clearly even through the closed screen door. She’ll have to jump.

Clarke adjusts the bat to hold it over one shoulder like Octavia showed her. If there’s anyone out there, he’s gonna get a bat handle in the face. Her nerves are jangling and yet she’s still worked up. _Focus,_ she thinks, berating herself. Lexa’s sex fog seems stronger now, and she curses herself for giving into fantasy. She creeps further, the balcony appears empty but she pushes the screen across anyway.

Lexa freezes. With one leg thrown over the balcony railing. She was looking down trying to measure the distance to the ground, understand how long it would take her to heal from those injuries.

“Lexa?”

Her head snaps up hearing Clarke’s voice and the breath is knocked out of her lungs as if she already jumped. Her wolf is a fucking idiot and so is she, storming onto campus for _Clarke._ This girl, again. She wants to howl and bark with the joy of finding her. She wants to growl her approval of this situation. 

She also wants to die of embarrassment.

For Clarke, recognising the person randomly on her balcony at three in the morning is not as comforting as she might have thought. She doesn't let the bat drop. Her heart is pounding. Lexa is wearing even less than Clarke is and her hair is wild around her shoulders. The fresh undercut does nothing to reduce her Jane Of The Jungle vibes. There're a few scratches on her arms with twigs and leaves in her hair. 

A light breeze ruffles the back of Lexa’s hair and Lexa feels a shiver go up her spine – goosebumps rising on her skin which has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with Clarke. She’s wearing nothing but a long t-shirt, and she’s carrying a bat; she looks utterly confused, fresh out of bed, and possibly the most fuckable girl Lexa has ever seen. She looks like sex, reeks of it and Lexa nearly dives off the balcony just to escape. 

“Wait! What are you doing?” Clarke hisses, stepping outside. 

“I have to go.” Lexa blurts out words that she doesn’t have time to think about. “I was… Sleepwalking.”

“Sleepwalking?” Clarke asks, clearly not believing her. “You sleepwalked across campus in your underwear and then sleep- _climbed_ onto my second story balcony?”

“Yes?” Lexa wants to wrap her arms around her chest, the thin strip of lycra wrapped around her breasts feeling particularly slim, but she’s still straddling the railing and can’t let go.

Clarke thinks for a second before her eyes go wide. “Oh my god were you attacked.”

“What? No!” Her voice is a little too loud. “No,” she repeats in a whisper. 

Clarke looks hesitant to believe her.

“Lexa get off of there. I’m not going to let you jump.”

“You won’t let me?” Lexa smirks at the insinuation despite herself and Clarke glares, now ready to believe Lexa wasn't attacked.

Lexa glances down at the ground again. It really is very far away. She thinks about letting the wolf come out, thinks about transforming and dropping back to the ground that way, but Clarke is already here. It’s too late for that now. She resigns, brings both legs back to the right side of the railing and drops to the floor.

Clarke doesn’t relax or put down the bat. “Now, what the fuck are you doing here Lexa?”

//

_My heart’s aflame / my body's strained but god I like it_

 

Clarke, is still on edge, can feel a very physical response to Lexa's presence building, but she makes Lexa come inside the apartment anyway. 

“Nice bat,” Lexa says, heading for the center of the room. 

Clarke shushes her and points at the still closed bedroom door. “Housemates,” she whispers and grabs at Lexa's hand.

Lexa yips a little as Clarke drags her fast into her room. Her fingers cling to Clarke’s and once inside with the door closed, neither of them makes a move to take her hand away. 

“Are you going to tell me what's going on?” Clarke is angry, and she needs answers, but Lexa is also very attractive. And near enough to naked. “Clothes?” Maybe she can concentrate better when Lexa’s dressed.

“What about them?” Lexa is joking.

Clarke dragss Lexa to her wardrobe her. 

“You’ll have to let go of my hand so I can find something,” Clarke whispers. 

Lexa looks down, and Clarke follows her glance. Their hands are linked now. Her thumb is stroking Lexa's. They're both clinging to each other. Their bodies are closer so there's hardly any space between them. Just like in the hallway. Clarke feels that urge to just push Lexa against something – to feel that pressure. 

She meets Lexa’s eyes and sees the same hunger. Their colour is almost golden now, giving that illusion of seeing both near and far, the infinite depth of a predator’s gaze. 

She shivers.

“Why do I feel like this?” Clarke knows that she’s afraid, somewhere in the back of her sensible mind she knows this whole thing is insane.

Lexa tries to find the words, she really does. She's usually good at words. Politics, debating, explaining any situation as it stands with clarity and confidence is what she does. Now, she's struck dumb. 

“I don't know,” she has to admit. “I'm not controlling it, I swear.”

Clarke looks like she believes her this time, which is a relief. The next question, though, is the one she dreads. 

“What are you?” Clarke says the three little words guaranteed to break Lexa’s heart.

“A girl should buy me a coffee first.” Lexa tries to joke but her tone is off. Too flat for humour and heavey with all the times she'd been asked that before. It usually took longer for girls to enquire. Clarke is in the advanced class it seems. 

Clarke wants to interrogate her, to interrogate this situation, unpack every mystery until she understands. Instead, she pulls Lexa closer to her, steps in until their feet run side by side. 

Her bed is so close. 

“Tell me what I'm feeling right now.”

“I don't know,” Lexa says honestly. 

“What are you feeling?” Her voice is a whispered husk.

“I feel like I can trust you. I feel like if I stop touching you I might die.” Lexa's jaw snaps shut and she swallows, wishing her words could be taken back.

Clarke won't let her take them back. She needs to unravel this mystery, but she also wants – she wants Lexa. “I need to feel more of you. Can I?”

Lexa is nodding before the question is out and Clarke abandons her search for clothes to bring Lexa to her bed instead. 

She lies down first, pushing her tangled sheets aside, then scoots back so there's room. Lexa doesn't need the tug on her hand to follow. She glances at the door to be sure it's shut, that they won't be interrupted, and lays down. She settles on her back, just her arm pressing along the length of Clarke's.

It isn't enough, and apparently Clarke agrees. With only a moment of hesitation, Clarke turns, lays her arm then her leg over Lexa's body before Lexa pulls her over until Clarke is straddling her thigh. 

“This is too much,” Clarke says but doesn't move. 

“I think so,” Lexa agrees. 

They pull each other closer and Clarke props her head up on one hand. She feels almost dizzy.

“What are you?” she asks again. She reaches out to pull a twig from Lexa's hair. She means to draw her hand away to keep it to herself. Somehow, her hand gets lost on the way, drifting over Lexa's ribs, down the sweep of her waist and over fine hips instead.

Lexa shivers. She isn't ready for these questions. “Do you think it would be okay if I don't answer?”

Clarke wants to say no, but really what can she do. “I feel so much when I'm with you,” she says. 

“I know.” 

What can Clarke say when Lexa's hand has settled on her waist when she can feel Lexa's thumb tracing the jut of her hip. What can she say when her fantasies are so very close. 

“Okay,” she finally sighs. It's unclear what she's agreeing to.

Lexa lays back and extends her arm in offer, throat bobbing as she swallows nervously. 

She licks dry lips and Clarke holds back a gasp at the glimpse of a pink tongue. Now is not the time for that. She needs to sleep, and now that Lexa is here she feels like she can. The smothering heat from before seems to has broken, or at least she's just better able to deal with it. 

She wants to kiss Lexa, desperately. She doesn't. 

Lexa waits, watches Clarke, half expecting the horror to kick in. She braces herself for cries and accusations. She's waiting for that word _monster_ to come at her. She waits, hoping for the best, expecting the worst and begging the moon for her help. Clarke's eyes flick to Lexa's mouth, then her eyes close. 

Clarke adjusts, lays herself down on Lexa's shoulder and Lexa lets out a breath of relief. She immediately loses her next breath when Clarke resettles. She's closer now, hot breath in Lexa's hair, their legs tangled.

“Don’t run away again,” Clarke says, her lips against Lexa's bare neck. 

With a shuddering breath Lexa nods. If Clarke requires any clearer answer she doesn’t say and soon Lexa’s listening to her deepening breath, listening to her slowing heartbeat. She’s falling too. 

She falls into sleep and a dream of running with Clarke, running, running through woods and howling for the moon.


End file.
